


Fire in my veins dream deeply love, remind me I'm alive

by AvaHasAClosetMurderBoard



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post 7x18, These babies are too precious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22736947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaHasAClosetMurderBoard/pseuds/AvaHasAClosetMurderBoard
Summary: "She’s only vaguely aware of the laughter and cheering that erupts behind her as the rest of Team Arrow continues playing their game of charades, and it’s not hard for her to guess who’s just taken their turn considering the way Rene is loudly complaining about ‘couple brain waves’ and ‘unfair advantages’. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, especially when it sinks in just why she’s sulking by the window instead of participating.‘Hey, Dinah, it’s a shame your partner-in-crime isn’t around. You guys could totally be Team Canary.’"orTeam Arrow celebrates Valentine's day together and because someone is noticeable absent, Dinah ends up facing some truths.But it's all worth it in the end.
Relationships: Dinah Drake & Earth-2 Laurel Lance, Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	Fire in my veins dream deeply love, remind me I'm alive

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated Valentine's day to everyone! ❤   
> This was supposed to have been posted yesterday but I didn't manage to finish it on time sadly because the plan was for a small fluff one shot... and then 7k of angst with fluffy feels happened. Oops :')
> 
> A huge thanks to @WardenRoot and @Starling83 for kicking my ass every time I complained and for being the best partner-in-crime and beta a gal could ask for ❤
> 
> Now without further delays, hope you guys enjoy it! 
> 
> Title is from the song 'Afterlife' by Hailee Steinfeld

Star City is completely covered in white in February. 

It’s quite the sight, to stand by the window in the Queen’s apartment watching the tall buildings beginning to blend in with the rest of the landscape. The entire thing could have been taken out of a painting, and Dinah’s almost sure there has to be something similar to it hanging in one of the art galleries downtown. Or maybe there isn’t - maybe someone, somewhere, is sitting in front of their window right now with an easel and acrylics, their brush dancing across a blank canvas as they try to capture the beauty in front of them. 

Maybe they’ll succeed and create an absolute masterpiece, something worthy of being admired by the masses.

Or maybe they’ll fail. 

Maybe they’ll sit there watching the fleeting beauty and become so mesmerized by it, that when they finally pick up their brush to try and capture it, it will be too late. Their eyes will land on the same old buildings, the same old grey streets, and they’ll sit there with a broken heart longing to see snow covered land once more.

But they’ll know that even if it does begin to snow again, it won’t be the same, and they’ll have missed their one chance at something special.

Much like she did. 

Dinah pushes the thought aside, her gaze falling to the wine glass in her left hand. The dark liquid sloshes against the sides when she rotates her wrist, and she catches herself watching the small trail it leaves slowly dripping back down.

She’s only vaguely aware of the laughter and cheering that erupts behind her as the rest of Team Arrow continues playing their game of charades, and it’s not hard for her to guess who’s just taken their turn considering the way Rene is loudly complaining about  _ ‘couple brain waves’  _ and  _ ‘unfair advantages’ _ . She resists the urge to roll her eyes, especially when it sinks in just why she’s  _ sulking  _ by the window instead of participating. 

_ ‘Hey, Dinah, it’s a shame your partner-in-crime isn’t around. You guys could totally be Team Canary.’ _

She knows Curtis hadn’t meant to stir anything painful with his remark, but it still stung. Dinah had sat there, surrounded by her friends, and watched them cheerfully organizing themselves in pairs to play the game, until she realized she’d ended up being the odd one out. Of course everyone noticed and of course everyone tried to get her to join their teams, going as far as to try and bribe her with all sorts of things, ranging from free meals, free booze and her paperwork done for an entire week to having her  _ entire place cleaned for free  _ \- Dinah’s pretty sure Rene hadn’t meant that  _ at all _ , especially with the way Curtis quickly elbowed him for the suggestion. She’d hesitated for a moment, squeezing some satisfaction in the way the poor man squirmed in his seat, eyes literally _ begging  _ for her not to take the offer. 

In the end she didn’t take it, like she didn’t take the others, and had instead excused herself to grab something to drink. She didn’t miss the knowing look Felicity had shot her way as Dinah moved away from the little group, and that had left a bittersweet taste in her mouth because suddenly Felicity  _ knows  _ and Dinah’s absolutely sure she’s not going to just leave it as it is without asking questions she’s really not ready to answer. 

_ Questions she herself doesn’t have the answers to in the first place. _

The fuss behind her dies down and is almost immediately replaced with the sound of furniture being dragged across the floor. Oliver’s voice floats just barely above it, something about  _ ‘scratching the linoleum’,  _ and it’s not hard at all for her to discern - even through all the noise - the familiar sound of Felicity’s heels clicking through the apartment. Dinah drains the contents of her wine glass in one go and braces herself for what’s surely coming. 

If she plays her cards right, she’ll be left alone for the rest of the evening.

Or at least that’s what she’s hoping for.

Her gaze is lost again, somewhere in the white landscape outside, when Felicity comes to stand next to her by the window. Dinah notices, from the corner of her eye, the way the other woman is looking at her somewhat expectantly, and that has her stomach twisting painfully. Acknowledging her would mean acknowledging why Dinah is wistfully standing by the window instead of enjoying the day with her team, her friends -  _ her family _ ; and the more she thinks about it, the less ready she feels.

And so she doesn’t, feelings of guilt for shutting off a friend be damned. 

It’s impossible to miss the way disappointment begins to lace Felicity’s features as minutes drag by and Dinah remains impassive. Around them the world seems to suddenly have gone awfully quiet, save for the white noise created by the thick snowflakes battering against the glass, and that only serves to put her more on edge. She swallows loudly and it feels like the sound reverbs and echoes against every surface nearby. It’s suffocating. 

The action may have caused her to let some shred of emotion escape through her carefully crafted poker face, because next thing she knows there’s a hand on her arm and a pair of eyes full of concern entering her field of vision. 

She doesn’t even notice her hands are shaking until Felicity’s free hand is reaching out to take the empty glass of wine from her and placing it carefully on the windowsill. 

“Everything alright, Dinah?” the other woman asks quietly. “You don’t look so good.”

It’s like the burst of a bubble. The white noise gives way to cheers and loud conversation once more and she doesn’t feel like she’s being watched anymore by everyone else in the room - save for Felicity. She still feels the tension deeply rooted in her limbs and the heavy weight on her chest, but it no longer prevents her from dropping her shoulders and faking a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Her voice cracks slightly as she says it, and she clears her throat. “Probably had a bit too much to drink.”

It’s a blatant lie and she regrets it the moment it leaves her lips, especially when Felicity just shoots her an incredulous look. The woman had seen Dinah pour pure Russian vodka down her throat like it was nothing, but of course  _ one glass of wine  _ would clearly be her undoing. 

_ Way to go, Dinah. _

Felicity lets out a small laugh somehow, much to Dinah’s surprise, but it’s as clear as day that she’s obviously not at all convinced Dinah’s telling her the truth. “You know,” she begins, “if I wasn’t absolutely-one-hundred-percent sure I know what’s causing  _ this-” _ she squeezes Dinah’s still shaking hand for good measure with both of hers- “I would be hauling you  _ right now _ to your home and putting you to bed.”

Dinah can’t help but to let out a chuckle at her words, choosing to deflect the way Felicity had practically admitted she  _ knew _ . “Aw, Felicity, if you wanted to tuck me in  _ that bad _ , all you had to do was ask.”

There’s a glint, a small spark of  _ something _ that lights up the other woman’s eyes all of a sudden, and Dinah doesn’t recognize it for what it is until it’s too late. “I would have, trust me, but I thought that privilege belonged to Laurel...?”

It takes her a second too long to process just what Felicity is trying to imply, but when it finally sinks in it’s like someone just poured down a bucket of icy water on her. Her entire body freezes and tenses in response, muscles going taut in such a way that it causes Felicity to quickly remove her hands from Dinah’s and take a step back. It’s impossible to not feel the eyes of one Oliver Queen on her when it happens, and it only serves to make her feel guiltier about the way she’s reacting. 

She lets out a breath through her nose and shuts her eyes. The headache she feels coming is really not helping the situation  _ at all.  _ “Look, Felicity…” She breathes out and tries to keep her voice as low and steady as possible. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Dinah thinks that’s it, that’s when Felicity will leave things be and walk back to their little party, but when she opens her eyes and glances at the other woman, determination is the last thing she was hoping to find in her features. But that’s what she finds, much to her chagrin, and it lights a spark of anger that she doesn’t want there. 

Felicity opens her mouth and Dinah braces herself for what’s sure to come: a full speech about companionship and looking out for one another because they’re a team, followed by strong words of encouragement that would have any living soul run towards their goal because  _ ‘nothing is unattainable when you put your mind into it’ _ ; and then off to the grand finale, where no doubt her voice would get just a touch softer, just a touch lighter, and she’d hold Dinah’s hand while reassuring her that things would work out just fine.

_‘When you have such a long history of heartbreak and violence like I do,’_ she just suddenly wants to say, _‘you can be sure nothing will work the way you want it to.’_

Turns out neither gets to say to each other what they actually want to, because Oliver is suddenly loudly announcing that the food is ready and asking everyone to please take a seat around the dining table. Felicity gives her a look that clearly says  _ ‘we’ll finish this conversation later’  _ and quickly moves away, and that’s when Dinah is absolutely sure she’s not going to stick around for longer than she absolutely needs to.

She reluctantly follows the other woman, and the second they reach the table, Oliver shoots them both an odd look. They take a seat, Felicity by his side and Dinah next to Rene, and Dinah just plasters another fake smile on her face as Diggle launches into the story about how Oliver met  _ Cupid _ .

**

Dinner goes on without much of a hitch. 

There’s a few more stories that are shared, little leftover mementos from times long past, back when they were just themselves and not the masks they wear today. Rene shares something that baby Zoe once did and Curtis nearly doubles over from laughing just a touch too hard - it’s a miracle he doesn’t choke on the wine he’d just been drinking when it happened, too. Lyla comes in then with a tale on how Diggle once failed to open a bottle of wine, during one of their early dates, and got it all over himself while trying to impress her. The cloud of laughter it provokes is absolutely contagious, and Dinah finds herself laughing along with them, her earlier inner musings pushed down and carefully stored for a later time. It’s freeing, really, to allow herself to be surrounded by the warmth of her friends, to allow it to embrace and envelop her like a cozy blanket - even if it’s just a little while. 

Because it’s a given that the second she walks out of that front door, all she’ll be feeling is the cold. And the weather won’t be the only thing to blame for it. 

Dinah’s in the middle of taking a bite out of the most amazing dessert she’s ever tasted when her little glass roof is shattered to pieces and those already fragile walls come crashing down like they weighed as much as a feather. She should have known that  _ Laurel  _ would end up being mentioned sooner or later, but her little hope that the woman would be nowhere at the forefront of anyone’s mind was for naught. It’s Curtis again who throws it out there into the universe, lips made loose by the amount of wine running through his system, and Dinah really wants to kick whoever kept filling his glass in the ass. 

Judging by the sudden glare Felicity throws in Rene’s general direction, she has a pretty good guess who’s to blame. 

“You know, it’s really _really_ a shame Laurel couldn’t make it,” Curtis insists again and Dinah really wishes he would just _be quiet_. “I would just literally give everything to see her getting all ‘homey’ with us. Do they even celebrate Valentine’s Day on Earth-2?”

His words are slurred and Dinah tries her damn hardest to remember he’s just drunk, that he wouldn’t bring Laurel up again, not when he’d seen how she’d reacted earlier at the slight mention of  _ her  _ name. She steadies herself now that he has trailed off, possibly busy musing inside his own little world about other earths and their festivities, and lets out a breath through her nose. She can feel someone’s eyes on her but chooses to ignore it, gaze locked on the half eaten dessert in front of her, and just as she’s about to take another bite- 

“They do celebrate it, actually,” Oliver’s voice sounds to her left, and Dinah shuts her eyes and lets out a curse under her breath. Why couldn’t he just drop it? There’s no way Curtis will remember a word of it later anyway. “And I did invite Laurel to be here with us tonight, but…” he trails off and that’s when Dinah can so clearly see what’s coming next, like a bullet waltzing through the air and coming straight at her. “She said she had plans with someone special.”

Make that bullet a damn cannon ball instead.

She doesn’t realise what she’d done until she feels something shattering under her fingers and something warm running down the palm of her hand. There’s gasps and the sound of someone standing up, and Dinah only has half a mind to open her eyes again when there’s a hand on her shoulder and another one on her right wrist. Her eyes instantly land on the glass shards and on the broken glass she’s still clutching a touch too hard, and then on the specks of red that stain the clear crystal that she’s pretty sure aren’t from the wine. It’s her turn to let out a gasp at the sight, grip immediately going slack, and she doesn’t even get a chance to assess the damage on her hand properly before there’s a napkin being hastily wrapped around it. 

Felicity’s concerned face comes into view not a second later, and she guides Dinah to stand up. She obliges. 

She thinks she hears someone asking her if she’s alright as she’s pushed into the general direction of the hallway, but every sound fades into white noise around her once more the second the walls close in on her. Her eyes land on the red beginning to rapidly stain the white cloth around her hand and it surprises her when all she feels is a gentle throb coming from it. 

_ ‘Guess some wounds are just more deep than others’. _

It’s quiet in the bathroom as she sits down on the closed toilet seat and allows Felicity to clean her wound. She hasn’t said a word yet but Dinah can feel the urge to speak up radiating in waves from the other woman, so she’s pretty sure sooner or later that imposed silence will break. The tiny shards still lingering from her small mishap are quickly removed with an almost surgical precision, and Dinah doesn’t even bother to wonder how many times Felicity has had to do something similar for Oliver through the years. Next comes the disinfectant, and the second it makes contact with the injured skin, she lets out a hiss. 

Apparently that’s what it takes for Felicity to finally  _ snap.  _

“It hurts?  _ Good, _ ” she begins, the annoyance palpable in her voice. “Maybe that will teach you to finally  _ stop bottling things up _ and actually  _ talk to your friends  _ about what’s bothering you.” She pauses for a moment to reach for a clean bandage, and as gently as possible begins to ease it down to wrap it around the injured hand. “Look, I know you’re upset and that you  _ miss  _ Laurel, but not talking about it doesn’t make it go away.” 

Dinah opens her mouth to protest, but Felicity just continues before she has a chance to get a word in. “ _ Pretending  _ that everything is great and fine only makes things worse, Dinah, you of all people should know that.” Felicity’s gaze locks with hers then and her voice softens for the next words. “So talk to us- to me about it. Let me ease your worries.”

She’s silent for a moment while she digests Felicity’s words, her gaze falling on the sterile clean bandage now securely wrapped around her right hand. From the corner of her eye she notices the stained napkin laying at the other woman’s feet, and the sight of it fans the flames of a weakness she wishes she never had displayed. 

It’s impossible to miss the way Felicity’s face falls the second their gazes lock again, but Dinah swallows every feeling she may have about it all down. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

She speaks with a finality to her voice, hoping to leave no room for argument, and is surprised when the other woman actually remains quiet. Dinah makes to stand up and Felicity does the same, the latter taking a step back to allow some distance between them. She doesn’t stop Dinah when she turns her back and takes the few steps to reach for the closed bathroom door, and it’s when Dinah’s left hand makes contact with the brass doorknob that she pauses on her hasty retreat to throw a whispered  _ ‘thanks for the bandage’  _ over her shoulder, before she’s pushing the door open and disappearing into the hall. 

The chatter in the living room dies down the second she crosses the threshold, and it’s fairly impossible not to miss the general concern on her team’s - her friends’ - faces. She averts her eyes and quickens her step towards where her jacket and scarf are both hanging by the front door, and hopes to any god out there that no one will approach her to ask questions. 

Dinah is sadly  _ not _ that lucky.

There’s footsteps to her left when she’s busy struggling to pull the zipper of her winter coat up, and her eyes involuntarily flicker to the side of their own accord to check who is it. She finds Rene standing there, with the exact same concerned expression on his face that Felicity had when they were in the bathroom, except he looks a touch more hesitant in approaching her. It’s odd, in a way, and Dinah wonders if someone pushed him to check on her against his will - Rene has always been the kind of guy that understands well when she needs her space and he just gives it. 

This should be one of those times. The fact that suddenly it isn’t just proves her earlier assumption. 

“Are you okay, D?” he quietly asks as Dinah finally manages to tug the damn zipper all the way up. 

She doesn’t answer right away, choosing to reach for her thick scarf first. She takes her time wrapping it around her neck in calculated motions while she digests his question, and it’s only when she’s done making sure the ends are properly tied down that she finally glances his way. “Yeah, just tired,” she quickly says, and is surprised when all he offers in response is a nod. She’s not about to complain about his lack of questioning though, not when she really needs to leave that place, so she just flashes him a tight smile. “Take care, Rene”, Dinah finds herself saying before she’s turning on her heel and reaching for the front door, now more eager than ever to put some distance between herself and the things she really doesn’t want to talk about. 

“You too,” she hears him saying just as she pushes the door open and takes her leave. 

**

The only sound that follows Dinah as she strides through the surprisingly empty streets of Star City, is the snow crunching underneath her heels. It bounces and echoes, arching along every single frozen surface until it fades out into nothingness, and she allows it to lull her out of the conflicting thoughts in her mind. Not a minute goes by where she doesn’t momentarily have to close her eyes against the occasional harsh white light, and all she sees are the worried faces of everyone she’d just left behind. Something tells her that she should  _ at least _ text Felicity saying she’s sorry, while also adding that perhaps they should meet up and talk sometime soon, just the two of them. 

It’s not like she’s suddenly comfortable talking about her conflicting emotions towards Laurel - far from it actually - but she recognizes that Felicity was right when she told her that bottling things up only makes it worse. And hey, who knows, maybe the other woman can finally help her make sense of the tangled web of thoughts that has taken up permanent residence in her mind these days.

Except when she pauses underneath the small roof of a coffee shop to do just that, and reaches into her pocket to retrieve her phone, the only thing that stares back at her is a completely blank screen. 

She’d forgotten her phone was dead. 

_ ‘Great. Just great.’ _

The sound of a car suddenly cuts through the silence of the night and Dinah freezes mid-motion, phone half tucked back into her jeans pocket. Out of habit she carefully listens for any sign of distress, with the roads being iced over and all, part of her hoping for something,  _ anything really _ , to put some adrenaline coursing through her body. But the car just quietly passes by and disappears down the road, and Dinah doesn’t know if she’s more disappointed or glad it does. 

She begins walking again, towards her apartment, and as she does she brings her hands up, close to her mouth, to blow on them. She tries rubbing them together in an attempt to coax some warmth back into the cold skin, but it only causes her to let out a hiss when all that does is upset the wound on the palm of her hand. Her eyes catch sight of the bandage and she swallows with unease, suddenly remembering again the reason it is there in the first place. 

Dinah shoves her hands back into her pockets and doesn’t take them out again. 

Her street finally comes into view after another couple of blocks, and she feels instantly lighter. The road hasn’t been cleaned yet and she doubts it will be anytime soon, so she favours walking through the middle of it instead of sticking to the sidewalk. The closer she gets to her place, however, the more this sudden feeling of unease grows in the pit of her stomach, and Dinah’s not sure exactly why. Her steps slow down as her gaze sweeps through the area, looking for some invisible enemy lurking in the shadows that can justify the feeling in her gut.

She finds  _ nothing _ and that’s somewhat worse than actually finding  _ something _ . 

_ ‘I must be losing my damn mind,’ _ is her only thought as she shakes her head and pushes towards her front door. 

Except she doesn’t make it much further than her small front gate, which stands open and snowed in. 

She’s pretty sure she’d closed and locked it behind herself earlier that evening.

“Ah, there you are”, a familiar voice suddenly says, and Dinah’s eyes immediately shoot up to find a shadowy figure leaning against her front door. “I was starting to wonder if I was going to be here freezing my ass off all night.” 

_ Laurel. _

Dinah’s completely caught off guard and freezes up on the spot, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing when all the  _ ‘how’s’ _ ,  _ ‘why’s’  _ and  _ ‘what’s’ _ swimming on her tongue absolutely refuse to be verbalized. She can literally  _ feel _ the eye roll the other woman gives her, even if she can’t see her face from where she’s standing, and not a moment later Laurel steps out from the shadows of Dinah’s small front porch and into her line of sight. 

She’s still wearing the same damn cocky smile Dinah has gotten so used to, but her hair is shorter and blonde now, and Dinah can’t say she dislikes it. It suits her, in a way, just like the tight clothes she’s wearing suit her more than the ones that used to belong to this Earth’s Laurel, and that tells her that what she’s seeing -  _ who she’s seeing  _ \- is someone who finally managed to embrace and become her own person. 

Laurel cocks her head to the side, as if in contemplation, and Dinah hates that the low light doesn’t allow her to see what those eyes are up to. Dinah barely manages to curb her expression to remain impassive as she allows herself to be watched and most likely scrutinized, even if she feels more exposed than she would like. Her heart is absolutely refusing to remain steady inside her chest and is threatening to burst out of her ribcage, and Dinah starts to wonder if Laurel can hear it from where she’s standing. 

The thought frightens her to no end, and the more time passes without a single word being uttered, the more she believes it to be true.  _ ‘This is it,’ _ she bitterly thinks,  _ ‘this is how Laurel figures it all out - this is how she leaves again to never come back.’ _

There’s a flash of something that suddenly crosses Laurel’s face and then her entire demeanor is changing. She shifts on the spot and her arms come to rest above her chest, and her lips are now shaped in a thin line.

Laurel is on the defensive.

Dinah braces herself for what she knows is surely coming.

“I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

It doesn’t come. 

The laugh that escapes Dinah once the words sink in catches them both by surprise, if the way Laurel’s features shift towards indignation is anything to go by. She opens her mouth again. “Why are you laughing?”

It continues. 

“It’s not funny!”

More chuckles. 

“Dinah, stop being such a  _ dick _ , I’ve been freezing my ass off for  _ hours  _ waiting for you!”

It takes a heartbeat for the implication behind those words to finally sink in, and when it does, Dinah wants to do everything  _ but laugh _ . There’s a sudden spark of something,  _ something akin to hope _ , that’s threatening to ignite the fuse that dangles precariously from her treacherous heart - because Oliver said Laurel had refused his invite to his Valentine’s day dinner because she had plans with someone special and now Laurel is pretty much admitting that she’s been standing at Dinah’s door for hours and-

Dinah hits the breaks on that line of thought before it has the chance of lighting that damn fuse, and of course that is quickly replaced with a scenario that fills her whole soul with dread. What if Laurel was indeed spending Valentine’s day with  _ someone else  _ and things went south? What if she only came here looking for some sort of ‘consolation prize’? She can’t help the way the thought of being nothing more than a mere replacement leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Her eyes narrow and she can’t keep a certain sharpness away from her voice when she finally speaks. “What are you doing here, Laurel?”

Laurel’s face falls on the spot and Dinah feels like she just got punched in the gut at the sight. “I came to see you.”

She shakes her head. “No, I meant what are you  _ really  _ doing here.” Dinah’s voice breaks with every word, even if she’s trying her hardest to keep her emotions in check. “Why did you come back to Star City? Why did you come back to this earth?”

The other woman looks slightly taken aback, lips slightly parted, and she looks like she's digesting her next words carefully. “I told you already, Dinah,” she says as she takes a step towards her, her voice much softer than Dinah remembers it to ever be. “I came here to  _ see you _ .”

Dinah watches with bated breath as Laurel takes another step forwards, followed by another, and it’s only when she’s almost within reach that Dinah raises a hand to stop her. “Don’t,” she lets out. It sounds a tad harsher than she’d intended it to, and she immediately regrets it because now that she can see Laurel’s eyes, she can see every single emotion barely contained within those crystalline pools. 

Because that’s the thing with Laurel, she doesn’t do halves or slivers - she can either be a menacing fortress, a sky-high castle with impossible walls to climb; or she can be a house where every wall, every door and every window is made out of pure glass. She either shows everything or shows nothing, and now she’s choosing to show Dinah  _ everything  _ and the implications are absolutely terrifying.

Laurel’s allowing herself to be  _ this vulnerable  _ around her and Dinah’s being an absolute ass in return. 

That doesn’t sit well with her.

She unconsciously wets her chapped lips and it’s hard not to notice the way Laurel’s eyes seem to follow the motion. Dinah lets out a shuddering breath at the implications behind the action. “I’m sorry,” she finds herself saying after a moment. “Long day.”

The other woman’s expression softens a little bit at the words, and her shoulders drop slightly, but it’s short lived. Her gaze flickers down for a moment, towards Dinah’s still outstretched hand, and it’s only when her eyes go wide that Dinah realizes she has noticed the bandage there. “What happened to your hand?” Laurel asks with concern evident in both her voice and in the way her brow furrows. “Were you in a fight?”

Dinah clears her throat and quickly retracts her hand back to her jacket pocket. “An accident with a glass, nothing serious.” Laurel doesn’t seem convinced and opens her mouth again, but Dinah cuts her off before she has a chance to speak. “How about we talk inside? I’m freezing.”

There’s an edge of snark to Laurel’s next words, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, so now you’re freezing. Imagine how I feel.”

Guilt churns deep in her stomach again but she pushes it down before it can show. “Come on,” she calls out as she moves past Laurel and towards her front door. “I’ll make us something warm to drink.”

There’s a moment where Dinah just stands there awkwardly on her front porch, patting every single pocket on her outfit to try and find her key. She pauses on her search to throw a quick glance above her shoulder, only to find Laurel still standing in the same place as before, her back to where Dinah is. Somehow this feels like a line to her, a line that only Laurel has the power to cross, and Dinah hates feeling so powerless as to what may or may not happen. 

She did her part, by inviting Laurel inside, and now it’s completely up to the other woman to make a decision for something that sounds so simple, but that actually speaks volumes. 

It feels to Dinah like she’s inviting Laurel  _ in _ , in more ways than one, and the thought of it shakes her to her very core. And  _ maybe _ Laurel understands this, and _ maybe _ that’s  _ the entire reason why _ she’s still awkwardly standing in the middle of Dinah’s small front garden.

The key slides into the keyhole with ease, the door unlocks, and she pushes it open. 

Another invitation, another slight gravitational pull. 

She takes a step inside, followed by another, and Dinah feels the entire world around them going still, like everything and everyone is watching and waiting, with bated breath, for Laurel’s next move in this intricate game of chess they seem to be playing. 

Dinah doesn’t realize she has been holding her breath until the sound of crunching snow reaches her ears, followed by footsteps that are now awfully close. Laurel pushes past her suddenly, like no world-shattering event had just occurred, her voice echoing in the dark of Dinah’s living room. 

“You better have some pretty damn good coffee.” 

**

They are sitting in silence, in Dinah’s small living room. 

Laurel has made herself comfortable on the couch, with her legs stretched sideways on it and a warm cup of coffee cradled in her hands. Meanwhile, Dinah has taken a seat on a small chair opposite from Laurel, her gaze lost on the rich brown liquid inside her own mug. She can feel Laurel’s eyes on her every now and then, but still stubbornly refuses to meet the other woman’s gaze with her own, even if she knows she should.

They  _ really need _ to talk.

Outside the snow has begun to fall again, thick flakes coming down just as hard as they did when she was at the Queen’s apartment earlier that day. She can see them, from the corner of her eye, casting dark shadows all over her walls, and somehow that, together with Laurel’s steady presence in the room, is enough to send her down the rabbit hole again. The injury on her hand suddenly throbs when she’s going through the day’s events, with some sort of ghost of the same pain she’d felt when Felicity had applied the disinfectant there, and she tries her best to not let any discomfort show. 

Dinah thinks moving her injured hand away from the warm cup won’t raise any red flags with Laurel, but she’s obviously wrong.

There’s some shuffling and Dinah’s eyes flicker towards the couch on their own accord, only to find Laurel watching her with concerned eyes. Try as she will to break the sudden eye contact, her stubborn brain refuses to follow orders - or maybe it’s her heart again, betraying her with all those things she is absolutely  _ still _ refusing to acknowledge. At this point, not avoiding Laurel’s gaze means being at her mercy, and Dinah’s not sure she’s ready for that just yet, even if something inside her has apparently made the decision  _ for her.  _

“Dinah,” Laurel begins quietly, “are you going to tell me now how you  _ really _ hurt your hand?”

It’s spoken as a question, but her entire soul takes it almost as a command, and that scares her. She was eventually going to tell Laurel she’d broken a glass by accident and hope to all reason that she’d just take her word for it being a simple accident and move on - what she didn’t account for, however, is the way her lips loosen up and she ends up revealing far more than she originally meant to.

“I broke a wine glass,” she finds herself voicing out loud, “during dinner...” Dinah trails off and means to add the ‘accident part’, except that’s not what comes out. “...Over something Oliver said.” 

It surprises her when Laurel  _ genuinely laughs _ at what she’d just said, like Dinah had just told her the funniest joke in the world. It takes the other woman a moment to gain some semblance of composure again, and when she does, the smile doesn’t fade from her lips. “Any sane person that has to sit and listen to  _ Oliver Queen  _ during Valentine’s Day  _ of all times  _ is bound to lose their mind a little - unless your name is Felicity Smoak, of course. But hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Dinah.” She takes a small sip from her coffee. “I probably would have done the exact same thing, except  _ maybe  _ I would have flung the glass right into that smug face of his-”

“It was about you,” Dinah finds herself blurting out, and instantly regrets it when she notices the way Laurel freezes mid-motion and her eyes narrow. “It wasn’t anything bad, I promise,” she quickly adds, trying to salvage the situation.

Laurel does not look convinced  _ at all.  _

“That’s kinda hard to believe, considering you actually  _ crushed  _ a glass over whatever it was.” She leans forward to gently place her mug on the coaster Dinah had left earlier on the coffee table for her. “So come on, out with it. I promise if I have to hunt him down, I’ll do it only  _ after  _ I’ve had my breakfast.”

Dinah chews on her lower lip in contemplation, the truth dancing dangerously on the tip of her tongue just itching to be let out. She can’t find an ounce of judgment on Laurel’s features, just pure curiosity laced with something  _ else,  _ something darker hiding behind her eyes that forces Dinah out of her little world to face the fact that this person, this woman sitting on her couch was once the infamous  _ Black Siren _ . She doesn’t know why her mind decides that now is the moment to remind her of that, to remind Dinah of all the things she’s been through because of  _ her,  _ and it’s oddly freeing to realize that doesn’t change _ how she feels at all.  _

Yes, Laurel put her through hell and back, but she also had Dinah’s back more times than she can count; not to mention the woman in front of her has made a change for the better and has proven herself countless times. 

So there’s virtually no reason why Dinah shouldn’t be taking that metaphoric leap of faith when she’s standing right at the cliff’s edge and Laurel’s at the very bottom, watching and waiting. 

Dinah takes the dive. “Oliver, he-” she swallows hard and averts her gaze as the next words roll off her tongue, too afraid to see how Laurel will react to the truth hidden beneath them. “He mentioned that the reason you refused his invitation was because you had plans.”

“... That’s all?” Laurel’s voice is laced with what almost sounds like disappointment. “I don’t see what’s so upsetting about-”

Dinah cuts her off then, and mutters between clenched teeth. “With  _ someone special. _ ”

The sound of the wind howling outside is the only thing that reaches Dinah’s ears for a few fast heartbeats. Laurel has gone suddenly very quiet, and Dinah assumes that she’s either digesting the implication behind the words spoken or that she doesn’t know what to say. She briefly toys with the idea of stealing a quick glance towards the other woman, but the longer the silence stretches between them, the more her brain is convinced that opening up like this was a big mistake. 

“ _ Oh _ , ” she hears Laurel let out, and her voice mingles perfectly with a sudden, particularly strong, gust of wind that rattles the window right behind Dinah. 

Much like it  _ rattles _ her, because now Laurel  _ knows.  _

And that’s absolutely terrifying. 

It was her own choice to put it out there in the universe, not only to let Laurel figure it all out, but also for Dinah to finally be able to admit to herself that yes, she was absolutely crushed and  _ jealous  _ when Oliver had revealed that Laurel refused his invite to spend the day with someone. The problem is, looking at it now that all the cards are laid on the table face up, did she even have the right to do that? Did she have the right to put Laurel in such a position where their friendship is on the line? What if she does have someone back on her earth waiting for her and meanwhile here Dinah is, holding her back and putting her on an uncomfortable spot? 

She hears some shuffling, followed by a couple of footsteps, and it’s like all of Dinah’s fears condense into one the second she’s pulled out of her inner monologue and realises what’s happening.

_ Laurel is leaving. _

Dinah desperately wants to look at her, wants to tell her just how sorry she is, wants to tell her to just forget about everything - but mainly, she wants Laurel to stay because if she walks out of Dinah’s apartment now, _if she crosses that threshold_ , Dinah’s not sure when she’ll ever see her again, and that’s more terrifying than anything else. But circumstance is a cruel mistress, as she’s beginning to learn, and as such the words absolutely refuse to leave her throat and her eyes refuse to move from the cold coffee she’s been staring at since the revelation had left her lips.

She feels more like a coward than a hero at that point. She’s supposed to be the  _ Black Canary _ , for crying out loud, and yet here she is, refusing to deal with the issue head on and hiding away instead. Dinah’s pretty sure her predecessors would be ashamed of her for this.

Dinah’s so wrapped up inside her mind that she doesn’t notice Laurel has come to stand right next to her until a pair of hands is reaching for the coffee cup she’s still holding and gently pries it away from her. The action is followed by a gentle  _ thud  _ and then she knows Laurel is kneeling right next to her when there’s more shuffling and she feels a knee leaning against her foot. 

Next comes a hesitant, surprisingly warm hand that lands on her knee, and Dinah feels goosebumps rising on her skin at the simple touch. She shivers, and the motion doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by Laurel, who squeezes her knee at the action.

“Dinah,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Look at me.”

Her only response is to shake her head, gaze stubbornly fixated on her lap now that her coffee cup has been moved away. She doesn’t feel worthy of looking into Laurel’s eyes, worthy of receiving her touch or her attention - yet she seems to crave it, like a moth to a flame, and it takes her every ounce of the willpower she’s got left to not obey the simple request. A beat passes and Dinah feels Laurel’s hand, the one not touching her knee, coming to rest just below her chin. 

There’s a bit of pressure there and her head is gently tilted up, their gazes finally meeting. “There you are,” Laurel murmurs and smiles at her so softly that Dinah feels her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. “You know, there’s a reason I came here today to see you.” A pause. “Oliver was right on one thing: I did have plans to spend the day with someone special...” 

Laurel chooses to trail off there and Dinah swallows to try and get rid of the huge lump that has taken residence in her throat. Her eyes begin to have a too familiar burn to them and she blinks rapidly against it, hoping Laurel won’t notice - but she does. Her brow furrows just so, before the hand that was resting under Dinah’s chin shifts and moves up, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. She feels Laurel’s thumb begin to rub the skin just below her left eye in a gentle motion, and that’s when Dinah feels the moisture that has gathered there.

She didn’t realize she was crying.

“I’m really sorry, Dinah, I didn’t mean for things to turn out like this at all. I thought- God, I don’t even know what I thought.” Laurel lets out a breath, her eyes shining in the low light. “I don’t know why I told Oliver what I did, but I guess I just didn’t want them to know the truth.”

At those words, the spark of hope from earlier ignites in a full wildfire and the flames burn high with a mix of colours and emotions. Heart beating in her chest, faster than it ever had before, Dinah somehow manages to muster the courage to part her lips and let the unspoken question finally have a chance to be answered. “What truth, Laurel?”

The entire world comes to a stand still once again that night, and it surprises Dinah when Laurel averts her eyes in a way that’s almost shy. It doesn’t last long but it feels like a lifetime, especially when those eyes gaze back at her in a way that completely steals Dinah’s breath away. “It’s you,” Laurel admits quietly, “it’s always been you.” 

Dinah doesn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she lets it all out, along with a sob, but there’s no time for her to get the air flowing back into her lungs. She doesn’t register Laurel leaning in until her lips are crashing against her own, in a kiss that’s far too gentle and far too hesitant for someone who once called herself Black Siren. 

But this is not her, Dinah has to remind herself - this is  _ Laurel,  _ the woman who’s been hiding underneath all those tough and untouchable layers all along, the woman who throughout hardships has managed to become a better version of herself, the woman who’s currently kneeling down by Dinah’s feet and kissing her so softly like she’s afraid to leave a bruise on her.

So she allows herself to be in the moment as it happens, to close her eyes and to kiss Laurel with the same softness and care in return. 

It’s pure bliss.

She finds herself only partially glad when Laurel breaks the kiss to allow them both to get much needed oxygen, but then she opens her eyes and is met with Laurel’s shy smile and flustered cheeks. Dinah swears she’s never seen a more beautiful sight in her life. 

The hand on her knee moves to cradle her face and it’s impossible for Dinah to miss the wetness running down her cheeks this time. Laurel’s brow furrows just enough for her concern to be evident, her fingers gently wiping Dinah’s tears away. “I hope these are happy tears, at least,” she says with a playful glint in her eyes. “I’ve been told I’m a great kisser so I’m pretty sure that’s not it.” 

A laugh escapes Dinah, part happiness and part relief, and she gently shakes her head. “They’re happy tears, I promise.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I just…” she trails off and begins considering her next words carefully, until she realizes she’s allowed to be  _ this  _ vulnerable with Laurel as well. “I never thought this would happen,” she quietly confesses. “It feels like a dream.” 

Laurel flashes her a warm smile before she leans in, their foreheads touching, and Dinah feels the ghost of a breath that’s definitely not hers dancing across her lips. “It’s real, Dinah, it’s happening,” she hears Laurel saying, and she swallows every word like a lifeline. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s all it takes for Dinah to finally embrace, in more ways than one, the woman she has fallen for. Her arms move on their own accord, hands fisting the material of Laurel’s surprisingly soft sweater before she’s pulling her up and onto her lap. Laurel lets out a small noise at the motion, something akin of a whine against Dinah’s lips, and then they’re kissing again just as the first rays of sunlight filter through the window behind them. 

There’s still uncertainties down the road, but if life has taught Dinah anything, it's that she should live in the moment. 

And that’s exactly what she’s planning on doing. 


End file.
